


On The Run

by TheCyrulik



Category: Original Work
Genre: Being Hunted, Blood Drinking, Dystopia, Gen, Hunting, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCyrulik/pseuds/TheCyrulik
Summary: A Wumptober 2020 day 28 prompt: hunting season/mugged.Two of my OCs meet in less-than-ideal cirumstances.In a dystopian, ruled by vampires world, Cameron is constantly on the run from human gangs and vampire hunters, while Roamer is trying to come to terms with his belonging to an opressive race, and doing his best not to be an ass about it.
Kudos: 3
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	On The Run

“Am I making a mistake by staying here tonight?”, Cameron wondered as he stacked some more stones on the edge of a crooked rock that was to be the outer wall of his hideout tonight. The sun wasn’t completely set yet and if he tried, he still might find a better place to stay. On the other hand, he had already come across some signs of a group of people travelling around these parts in the last couple of days. Almost certainly humans and not vampires. Probably men only. Perhaps they were hunters like him, but just as well ordinary crooks and bandits. Better not to risk it any more and just stay put for the night.

In the corner of his rocky shelter there was a flickering fire, over which a single can of stew was heating. Cameron took a break from worrying and sat down to supper. Desert nights tended to be terribly cold and once again he wished he had some community or at least a safe place he could come back to from his hunts – a place that could guarantee a safe night and some food every morning. Alas, it was not something fate would gift him.

“You can always go to any of the vampire cities”, whispered a malicious voice inside his head. “They will surely welcome you warmly and provide you with food and shelter. True, that shelter would be a cell corner and food would be in exchange for letting yourself be collared or tattoed with your master’s name. but you know, no such thing as free lunch.”

The worse he was faring, the more he kept hearing such insidious voices. Given how badly he had been doing lately, he had gotten pretty used to the self-sabotage his mind entertained in moments of weakness. He swallowed the last spoon of the stew and wrapped himself in the thin blanket, trying to get some rest.

***

He woke up with an unpleasant feeling. For a moment he tried to listen to the desert and see if he could pinpoint the source of his anxiety, but nothing overly suspicious caught his attention. He was just about to blame it on the hunger and the sleeplessness when he heard the unmistakable sound of a crossbow string being pulled. Other hunters? Bandits? No matter. Cameron grabbed his own, all too aware of his nasty situation. He stood up slowly, carefully looking around and listening to the wind howling in the sand.

“What do we have here?”

If he hadn’t heard the gang a moment ago, he’d probably jump, startled, as the man’s voice was surprisingly ugly and mean, even considering everything else. Cameron narrowed his eyes as the bandits lit a few lanterns – ghostly yellow sodium lamps of an era long gone, with a tendency to explode in the face of their holder. Either these guys weren’t aware of that or didn’t care, for Cameron could see their maliciously curious faces clearly.

“I want no trouble,” he began without much hope.

“Neither do we,” said one of them and several others laughed. “I don’t see how you could cause us any troubles, though.” The gang leader pulled out his knife and took a step towards Cameron. The latter gripped his crossbow tighter but given how many of them were there, he did it only to keep up appearances.

“What do you want?”, he asked, his surprise showing despite the obvious danger he was in. It made little sense for a decently armed gang to just be wandering around and simply harass lone wanderers. Then again, if you wanted some violent entertainment, self-proclaimed hunters are a safer option than bloodsuckers, he chided himself.

“Entertainment”, the gang leader was just about to say when the relative silence of the desert was interrupted by a sharp scream from one of the men. Some of the bandits looked around automatically, an act that brought doom upon them. Cameron watched in disbelief as the silhouette, dark even against the black of the desert at night, moved between other gang members, knocking them down in split seconds. Those not distracted by the initial scream had some precious time to prepare, but in the end, they gained little. Cameron retreated to the stone wall behind him, crossbow gripped tightly. The swiftness of the attack left him with no doubt – a vampire got them. The only question was what could a vampire possibly want with almost twenty adult men in one night.

Long seconds kept passing and Cameron was still standing, watching his would-be attackers lose the fight against the vampire miserably. He thought his being alive to be a rather good sign and decided not to waste an opportunity and decided on a tactical retreat. It wasn’t the time for heroism, it was time for running away while he could.

He did his best trying to see and grab the bag with most of his belongings in the dark, then scuttled along the rocks. Trying to keep his step fast but silent, avoiding any unwanted attention, he set off towards the opposite of where the bandits came from. This way he was going backwards on his trail but the sense of not-yet escaped danger and the chill of the night effectively occupied his thoughts and rendered him unable to be angry for yet another reason.

He didn’t take much time to decide it was one of the worst nights on the trail he ever had. The paranoia was taking its toil and every now and then it sounded like someone were following him. The sky was clear and the moon was bright, so Cameron could easily reaffirm himself there was no one around, but it did scarcely little to make him feel less anxious. Besides, that gang did not come out of thin air and yet they jumped him like he were a child. He clutched his crossbow harder and tried to convince himself he was the only person alive for kilometres. He was just about to call it a win when he heard a very cheerful sound from behind:

“Ey, mate, wait!”

Cameron was struck dumb. He slipped on the sand but managed to stay upright. He raised his crossbow and pointed it towards the voice.

“Hey, hey, easy, man!” said the stranger. He started approaching Cameron with his arms raised and an apologetic smile. In one hand he held a bundle that the hunter recognized to be his blanket and a spare sheepskin jacket he left at the camp. He lowered the crossbow slightly. The stranger held out the bundle out towards him.

“You left some of your stuff at the camp,” the stranger began, “and I thought you might like it back. We’ve had a bit of a fuss there but it’s all cleared up.” The stranger grinned, baring his teeth.

“Fuck!”

The bolt flew over the vampire’s arm and landed in the sand meters away. Cameron’s first instinct told him to run, but the hunter wasn’t stupid – he knew he couldn’t outrun a vampire who clearly hunted him down since the camp, out in the open and on the unsure ground of sand and rocks. Instead, he grabbed another bolt, but he got knocked down on his back at the same moment. The bolt flew out of his hand, but at least he held tight to the crossbow and now he tried to fling it at the vampire, to no avail. The vampire pressed him to the ground with his forearm and grabbed his wrist with his hand.

Cameron froze, awaiting the final blow. Instead, the calm voice of the vampire rang out in the night air.

“Listen, mate, I know you’re scared; I would be scared too. And I know you don’t believe me; I’d have a hard time believing myself either. But I don’t mean you any harm, and I honestly wanted to give you back your stuff – nights are cold around here. Why else would I carry it for such a long way If I wasn’t telling the truth?”

“To mock me?” suggested Cameron.

“Ha, that’s a nice one! Being mean just for the sake of it is believed to be a human thing, mate.” The vampire’s eyes narrowed as if he just caught Cameron lying, but then his face relaxed to friendly concern.

“Maybe he’s a crazy one and I can somehow get away?” A thought flashed through Cameron’s mind.

“But now, seriously, “ the vampire started, “I have good news and bad news for you.” He snatched the crossbow from the hunter’s hands and threw it in the sand, and loosened his pressure on Cameron’s chest.

“What’s probably worrying you the most, and what I’m gonna explain right away so you can relax a bit: I’ve no intention of killing you or harming you in any other way, that’s one thing. Second, you got the rest of your gear back. I’ll throw in two chocolate bars I found recently and didn’t eat, for obvious reasons. I promised myself I’d give them to the first human I meet that wouldn’t be a complete scoundrel. More good news: I’m not gonna look into it too closely and just assume you’re not one. So there, the benefit of trust. Doesn’t that feel nice?”

At this point the bloodsucker released his wrist and grabbed the front of his jacket with both hands instead.

In one swift move Cameron was brought to his feet. He felt dizzy from the sudden change of position and to keep his balance, he grabbed the vampire’s arms, which the vampire allowed with a kind expression. Cameron choked back a hysterical laugh.

“Better now?”, the vampire asked after a moment. He nodded and looked into his would-be killer’s face.

“Apologies. Forgot about that funny bug in humanity’s software.”

Cameron couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little.

“ T’s a feature.”

“Sure is.”

The vampire hooked his foot in Cameron’s things and tossed his jacket up in one swift moment. He grabbed it and pushed it into the hunter’s chest.

“Put it on.” He let go of the front of Cameron’s clothes and instead he just grabbed him by the collar with one hand.

“Now for the bad news: I really need to drink from you. Didn’t exactly have time to have a drink on one of those crooks back there since I wanted to catch up with you and give you back your things. Besides, I’d have to stay with them until at least one of them woke up and took proper care of the bitten one. Also, considering their brightness, I’d actually have to stay until all of them woke up and make sure they won’t hurt one of theirs because they’re likely to believe some idiot superstitions that one bite will make a man turn. It could turn into some sort of lynching and I’d be bound to either intervene or have a random crook on my conscience. Ya feel me?”

Cameron didn’t really feel him. He fumbled with his sheepskin and stared at the vampire.

“Drink from me?”

“Yah, but chill. Don’t have to worry about anything, just put the jacket on so you don’t get too cold after losing blood.”

The vampire grabbed one of the sleeves and helped the slightly confused Cameron put it on in the dark.

“See? The hardest part is over,” the vampire said reassuringly as the hunter pulled the zipper up to his chin in a sign of protection.

“Now what?”

“Now, my dear friend, get ready for chill-out time. G’night.”

The vampire’s fangs flashed in the moonlight. A couple of years back Cameron was unfortunate enough to get stabbed by an arrowhead – it hurt like a motherfucker, and he had expected the bite to be more or less the same, sharp, piercing pain of two stabs into his neck. Instead, he just felt like a punctured balloon that was losing air quickly. His legs got weak and then nothingness surrounded him.

***

Roamer carefully carried the unconscious man to the foot of a small dune. He wrapped the blanket around him and put the rest of his baggage nearby. He put the promised chocolate bars inside his backpack and got to start a small fire. The dune would shield them a bit and besides, one of the perks of being a vampire in a vampire-ruled postapocalyptic world was that there were very few things that posed a real danger to you or the few humans you decided to keep under your protection.

Roamer was stabbing the small fire with his stick, ignoring the warnings and prohibitions of his late granny that told him never to play with fire, as he heard the man begin to stir back to consciousness.

“Given how eventful your night was, one would think you ought to sleep a bit more than that. Mate, really, it’s still the middle of the night. Come on, sleep a little more, I’ll keep watch,” promised Roamer.

“Name’s Cameron. ‘M not your mate,” the human muttered in a sleepy voice.

“Pleased to meet you, Cameron. I’m called Roamer.”

“Roamer?”

“Yeah, because I’ll take my find anywhere I may roam, you know? Just restless legs syndrome but it stays with me all day, all night. Really, go back to sleep.

The human – Cameron, Roamer corrected himself – Cameron shook his head.

“I can’t unless you plan on knocking me out like those guys before.”

“Should I?"

“I’d rather not. What now, then?” asked Cameron, trying to mask his unease.

Roamer pretended to think about it, analyzing the stressed human wrapped in his paper-thin blanket, still laying on the ground.

“I guess, now that you came to and seem to be of sound body and mind, I can leave you here without worry. Be so nice as to rest a little more and try not to freeze to death here. Gotta go roam a bit more tonight. Cheers!”

Roamer disappeared behind the edge of the dune before Cameron managed to reply, left to his own devices in the middle of the desert and in a state of complete and utter confusion.


End file.
